Of Pumpkin Painting and Faerie Fruit
 Halloween gift for @venetum
The first time Clarke met Bellamy, he painted a strange symbol on her right arm, and she couldnât move her fingers for three hours. She had been eighteen years old, at a Halloween festival with her friends. While her friends rode the rides that always made her sick, she was losing time at the pumpkin painting station. She had been focused on creating an anatomically correct skeletonâhaving the head surgeon from her hometownâs hospital demanded nothing lessâwhen heâd shown up at the station. She couldnât say what it was about him that fascinated her, maybe it was the warm, bronze color of his skin or the mischievous light in his eyes, but when heâd grinned at her across the table sheâd been struck by a sense of familiarity, though she knew sheâd never laid eyes on him before.
âYour skeleton seems ready to jump off that pumpkin and start walking around,â heâd grinned, eyes riveted on hers, not even looking at what sheâd painted.
âI suppose it could happen,â Sheâd let a tiny smirk slip out, playing along with him. âAfter all the veil between worlds is supposed to be at its thinnest today.â
âYou believe in other worlds then?â Heâd raised an eyebrow, his grin widening, but the sharpening of his gaze betrayed how intent he was on her answer.
âI think itâs possible,â Clarke let her smirk grow. âThough I donât think Iâll be spending tonight hunting ghouls and goblins.â
âShame,â He moved around the table, picking up a paint brush as he drew closer. Clarkeâs whole body could sense him, utterly aware of his tiniest movement. He stretched out his hand, palm upward. She tentatively placed her right hand in his, her inner right arm facing upward. He grinned at her, not breaking her gaze as he touched the tip of the paintbrush to her forearm. She jumped from the cold and his grin grew as he began tracing it across her skin. She held his stare. Stars seemed to dance in his eyes the longer they kept their gazes locked.
He winked and pulled away. âIt was nice to meet you,â he said before moving into the crowd, sending glances back at her as moved farther away.
Her right arm began to tingle, and she looked down as a burning sensation began to take form. The boy pulled away, and she looked up at him, betrayal in her gaze. A look of fear and regret overtook his face before he was swallowed up by the crowd.
Clarke searched out her friends, becoming more panicked as the burning sensation faded and she was unable to move the fingers on her right arm. Wells had rushed her to the hospital, the tests turning up no result, feeling returning after three hours precisely. The only thing left from the encounter were Clarkeâs memories and the mark. The paint washed away, but the mark remained, paler than the rest of already pale skin, like a scar.
When Clarke was 21, she celebrated Halloween at a bar. Her friends were at their table while she was at the bar, grabbing another round. The bar they were at were selling trays of 3 Halloween-themed shots for $3 a shot, and they were on their fourth round. Clarkeâs favorite was the Faerie Fruit shot; a sweet, golden colored shot of fruity liquor and whiskey that burned on the way down. Raven had claimed the Redcapâs Triumph an ungodly concoction of crème de menthe with a layer of cherry vodka dyed an alarming shade of blood red floating on top, that had been far too reminiscent of cold medicine for Clarkeâs taste. Wells preferred the Goblin Blood shot, a mix of green apple liquor and Blue Curacao that made Clarkeâs whole face pucker.
She leaned against the bar, content to wait as the bartenders flitted among the various witches, ghosts, and ghouls lining the bar. Clarke had opted for a more subtle costume, a High Fae, with pointed ear caps. She had worn dark jeans, a black tank top with a floral embroidery design in shimmering golden thread and tossed on a leather jacket. Her hair was half pulled back to reveal her ears, but she enjoyed the simple costume. Wells had protested, but Clarke had refused to budgeâshe had to wear this costume. She didnât know why but this was the right one for tonight.
Wells had been easily distracted by compliments to his own costume. Heâd dressed as a vampire, with red contacts, fangs that appeared and disappeared and fake blood on his face and shirt. Raven had opted for a simple costume, coming from work in her usual jeans and tank top, though sheâd made it a âcostumeâ by swapping her. Usual red jacket for her official Nasa staff jacket. Wells had grumbled, but one look from Raven had made him stop.
Clarke could see them both laughing at the table and she let a small grin take over her face. Those two had been circling each other for years, and the last few weeks made it seem like theyâd finally make that final plunge. Clarke turned back to the bar, glancing down toward where the bartender was taking an order. She froze as she saw the dark-haired boy who had drawn that symbol on her arm. Her hand drifted to where the mark was hidden by her jacket.
His eyes drank her in, his brow crinkling slightly as his gaze saw where her hand was. He began moving toward her through the crowd. She studied him, still unable to move. He moved fluidly, seeming to glide between the bodies massed around the bar. Her eyes moved to his face, taking in the warm brown eyes and catching on his ears. They were pointed. And she knew. These were not ear caps like she wore noâthese were real.
He reached her grinning, down at her but making no move to invade her space or touch her. Clarke opened her mouth to speak but her voice caught. His eyes drank in her face.
âItâs nice to see you again,â His honey voice washed over her, and she felt that sense of familiarity flow through her. âStill think itâs possible that other worlds exist?â
She blinked. âSo, youâreâŚâ
âFae.â He held her eyes, not wavering.
Clarke absorbed the information. After it washed through her, Clarkeâs fury made a sudden roaring appearance and she scowled. âWhat the hell was that three years ago? I couldnât move my arm for hours?â
He looked a bit sheepish. The boy moved even closer and lowered his voice, âThatâŚwas an unexpected reaction. That was meant to be some random symbol. My magic reacted to you without me intending it.â
âDoes that happen often?â
He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. âNo. Only with you.â
âAnd disappearing after? You knew something was wrong.â
âWe arenât supposed to share our magic or let humans know we exist,â He glanced around and lowered his voice further. âIf one of us was ever captured by humansâŚâ
Clarke knew immediately what he meant. Humans finding out about Fae and magic wouldnât end well.
âIf it was just me that would be one thing,â He continued, âbut I had to think of every Fae creature in Faerie.â
Clarke bit her lip. She closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened her eyes, he was watching her nervously. âYouâll try not to let it happen again?â
A look of surprise overtook his face and he nodded slowly.
âThen itâs nice to meet you,â She held out her hand. âIâm Clarke. I have a funny scar on my arm, and I love to paint.â
He grinned and gripped her hand. âItâs lovely to meet you Clarke. My name is Bellamy. I spend most of my time either working or reading in the library.â
âItâs nice to meet you Bellamy,â She didnât let go of his hand, smiling back at him. âHow about I buy you a drink? They have a great one called Faerie Fruit tonight.â
His laugh warmed her, and his grin widened. âIâd like that.â
Happy Halloween @venetum! I hope you have an amazing day!!!!
Prompt from Gail Carson Levine, Writing Magic: Creating Stories that Fly: The first time I saw Stephen, he painted a hex sign on my right arm, and I couldnât move my fingers for three hours.
Inspiration for Clarkeâs costume is from The Cruel Prince!
Shoutout to @slyth-princess for cough medicine line đ!
